


Such an almighty sound

by Skoll



Series: Pacific Rim Avengers AU [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Backstory for a future Frostiron fic, Basically I really want to see Tony Stark take on a Kaiju, But it's intended as a prequel to a slash fic, Canon-Typical Violence, FrostIron - Freeform, Gen, I think I just drastically redefined preslash, Pre-Slash, The Avengers as Jaeger pilots, Tony Feels, Where preslash means that Loki isn't actually in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 15:14:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skoll/pseuds/Skoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's the best pilot the Jaeger program has ever seen.</p><p>He's also never getting back in a Jaeger again, so there's that.</p><p>(Or: Backstory for an eventual Tony/Loki Pacific Rim AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Such an almighty sound

**Author's Note:**

> So basically anyone who knows my usual writing habits knows I have something of a weakness for both scifi AUs and soulmate AUs. Given that Pacific Rim sort of enables both these self-indulgent tendencies at once, it shouldn't surprise anyone that I'm now writing a Pacific Rim AU.
> 
> The title of this story is taken from Florence + The Machine's "Drumming Song," which actually fits this story a little too well.
> 
> Enjoy.

Tony catches Steve before he has a chance to fall over, and they both land in a shaking heap on the Jaeger's floor. “Neural bridge desynchronized,” the Jaeger's AI informs them, toneless and redundant as hell.

“Sorry,” Tony says, and lets go of Steve as soon as Steve can sit up on his own. It hurts Tony a little, letting go—the Drift felt fine on Tony's end of things, and coming out of it so soon feels like a shock, like Tony's been wrenched in half and holding Steve close would be the best substitute—but the thing is, it's Tony's fault that Steve's end of the Drift wasn't pleasant. It's Tony's fault that Steve is shivering and huddled on the floor; so Tony lets the fuck go, because feeling Steve's absence like a phantom limb is better than inflicting more contact on Steve right now. “Sorry,” Tony says again, uselessly.

And Steve, who's the best guy Tony knows, can't quite meet Tony's eyes as he looks up and says, “It's alright, Tony.” Steve smiles, and Tony remembers from the Drift what Steve's real smile looks like ( _Bucky slinging an arm around Steve's shoulder, Peggy looking over her shoulder at Steve, the rushing exhilaration of the first time he and Bucky took down a Kaiju together_ ) and tries not to notice how dim this smile looks compared to that. “We had to try, at least.”

“Yeah,” Tony says, and looks away. “Well, we tried, we failed, let's get out of here and never mention this again, how's that for a plan.” Tony leans over the communications panel, engages the comms, and says, “C'mon, Fury, get us out of here. There's a bottle of scotch somewhere with my name on it.”

It's at pretty much that exact moment that Tony decides he's never trying this again.  
…

The Kaiju's a class four, a big son of a bitch with razor sharp ridges running the lines of his body. One hit to Tony's Jaeger from those blades sends the machine flying backward, as Tony flails in mid-air, trying to get his legs back under him. “Come on, come on,” he says, not even thinking about what he's saying, and then his feet hit the ground and Tony's pressing forward, harrying the Kaiju, not giving him time to move.

“Sword,” he instructs the AI, and his sword extends, his Jaeger's arm releasing an unyielding blade just in time to counter another strike from the Kaiju, blade running against blade with a terrible shrieking sound. “Is that all you've got?” Tony asks, grinning, and his other arm comes up, throwing the Kaiju backwards and giving Tony a few meters of space to work with.

It's enough, for someone piloting a Jaeger built for agility rather than durability—the Kaiju stumbles back and Tony's on him, bringing his sword arm up for a quick, stabbing thrust to the Kaiju's chest. The Kaiju wails in Tony's ears as the sword breaks skin, and Tony jerks his arm upwards, turning the stab into a slash that rips the Kaiju open. 

The Kaiju slashes out in retribution, blades aimed to sever the Jaeger's head from its body, and Tony drops backwards to avoid the slash and then keeps going, guiding the Jaeger through a controlled backwards somersault. Between the Kaiju's forward momentum and centrifugal force, the move does exactly what Tony expects it to; the Kaiju is launched in the direction of Tony's roll, with enough force that its body rides the length of Tony's sword, nearly cutting the monster in half.

Tony pushes himself up and turns to face the Kaiju, but it's just a precaution rather than a necessity—the monster's dead before Tony has the chance to turn. Tony's already grinning, fiercely, by the time that win sinks in. “Okay, that was a beautiful kill,” he tells the AI, because seriously, he just cut a Kaiju in half and sustained almost no damage to his Jaeger doing it. That was practically art, right there.

“Successful mission,” the AI says, bland tone holding nowhere near the level of excitement Tony thinks that kill deserves. Then the Kaiju's body flickers, the cityscape Tony was fighting through flickers, and Tony's left in the grey, unadorned room of the simulator. “Simulator record for Tony Stark: three hundred and ten drops, three hundred and ten successful missions. Reengage simulator?”

All at once the adrenaline rush, the exhilaration of the kill, feel hollow. “No,” Tony says, and starts to remove himself from the simulator's rig. “I'm done for today. Shut the program down.”

…

Tony's greatest gift is also his greatest curse: Tony's strong enough to pilot a Jaeger alone.

Oh, not long term, obviously. For any period longer than maybe two or three fights, the neural load would be enough to overwhelm Tony, turn his brain to mush, and kill him slowly, same as any other pilot. For those first two fights, though, Tony's mind can compensate, can do the million and one things it takes to pilot a Jaeger solo.

Tony's not just saying that out of arrogance—he's proved it. See, Tony's officially one of the only two pilots to ever take a Kaiju down alone, and he saved at least thirty thousand people doing it.

Theoretically, that's all wonderful, because it makes Tony basically the best pilot in the history of the Jaeger program. Tony's a good enough pilot to be everywhere, to do everything, to take the neural strain of two people and come out of it with no long term harm—he's basically two pilots, all by himself.

But the Jaegers aren't meant to run on one, and neither is Tony, not for longer than one fight. 

And when a second pilot gets brought into the equation, well. That's when things go downhill.

…

Rhodey agreed to do it, because it was an emergency and they needed Tony's skills, because Rhodey was his best friend and basically knew Tony inside and out anyway, and Rhodey's copilot was still in medical after their last mission. Tony figured it couldn't hurt—he'd never hurt Rhodey on purpose, he trusted Rhodey with his memories and his head, and if they didn't do it the Kaiju would kill them all anyway. Whatever happened, going straight into battle without Drift compatibility tests, couldn't be worse than getting eaten by an alien, in Tony's estimation.

( _Rhodey bleeding slowly, this dark red trickle of fluid that Rhodey ignores and ignores until he can't anymore—Rhodey collapsing out of the rig, the left hemisphere going dark and throwing Tony out of his rig too when the Jaeger misses a block—Rhodey panting out, “Sorry, Tony,” even as the Jaeger shakes with blows from the Kaiju—so Tony takes the control from Rhodey's still hand and gets back in the rig and fights, fights better than he ever has before, the whole Jaeger totally under his control—the Kaiju falls and thirty thousand people live, thirty thousand people, and so it ought to feel worth the cost of one._ )

Tony's never been more wrong in his life.

…

Tony's too much, is the problem. He's too quick, he's too able, his brain processes too fast, and it drags his copilots along after him. It's not just that Tony's smart, because god knows Steve and Rhodey are ( _were_ ) smart as hell too—it's that Tony just doesn't think the same way as other people, and it takes more than intelligence to keep up with the frenzied, darting thoughts that race through Tony's head at any given moment. For Tony, the Drift feels like it ought to; for his copilot, the Drift feels like being dragged under by a riptide and drowned.

It feels almost ironic to have to admit it, after years of being told he was too much too fast by just about everyone in his life, but Tony really, truly is. Tony's brain is a neural load all of its own, and combined with the stresses of controlling the Jaeger, it's enough to push anyone into overload.

So Tony stops trying. He stops asking to undergo compatibility tests, he stops subjecting other pilots to the way his brain works, and he gives up on finding anyone who can keep up with him. It isn't fair to ask.

That's why the best pilot the Jaeger program's ever seen stays permanently grounded, working as an engineer and a designer and a programmer and whatever else they need him for, but never actually getting behind the controls of the Jaegers he builds.

Tony Stark: Drift incompatible.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, please feel free to leave a comment either here or at my tumblr: http://skollwolf.tumblr.com/
> 
> I always love hearing from readers. :)


End file.
